


Into that good night

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Death, Desolation of Smaug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Protective Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6155992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin helps his love cope with the impending deaths of her parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into that good night

You stepped out of the small tent, arching your back in a weary stretch. All around you lay the makeshift refugee camp, a day’s journey from Erebor…from what was left of it, anyway. A child cried in the distance as you looked across the plain, seeing everywhere the suffering of your people, decimated by the dragon’s attack.

A heavy step approached, and you turned to see Thorin walking toward you, his  expression sorrowful. His shoulders seemed already to stoop with the burden of the death and destruction visited upon the dwarves and the loss of the mountain and its treasures. You walked numbly into his open arms, laying your cheek against the coarse linen of his tunic that still smelled of smoke.

“How are your parents?” he asked.

“Fading,” you answered helplessly. “The healers say my mother has breathed too much smoke…and my father has not awakened since his injury when the Gate collapsed. I am told they will likely go together to the Halls of Mandos. It seems fitting, I suppose,” you admitted. “It is difficult to imagine them apart from one another.”

His arms tightened subtly around you, and his lips brushed your temple. “Amrâlimê, I am so sorry.” He was quiet for a moment, simply letting you rest in his comforting embrace before asking, “and how do _you_ fare?”

“As well as can be expected,” you answered, determined to be stoic, but the tears that stung your eyes did not escape his notice. 

“You do not have to be strong for me,” he said gently. “There is no shame in grief.”

Thorin’s compassion seemed to open the floodgates of your emotions, and a sob rose in your throat. He drew your head to his shoulder once again, his hand stroking your hair as his arms enfolded your body. You clutched the fabric of his tunic in your fist, leaning on him while your tears fell onto his skin, until your sorrow had spent itself and subsided in a shuddering sigh.

He continued to hold you, swaying slightly and rubbing your back in a slow, comforting rhythm, and when you had gone silent, he murmured, “tell me a memory of them. A happy one.”

“What?” you sniffled, looking up at his face.

“Tell me about a happy time with your parents,” he repeated patiently.

You thought for a moment before lighting upon a remembrance of sunny skies and warm grasses, of the cheerful trill of rushing water and your father’s twinkling eyes. “When I was a little girl, Adad used to take me fishing,” you ventured, a small smile tugging at your lips. “He would talk about it all week, and I would so look forward to it…and when the day came, Amad would pack a basket for us and we’d walk down to the river to fish and eat our lunch sitting on the bank, just the two of us.” Your smile broadened. “He always made me bait my own hook, no matter how I complained of being squeamish.” 

Thorin’s smile was warm, encouraging, and a small chuckle suddenly broke from your lips as you wiped your cheeks with your sleeve. “Did I ever tell you that my mother once caught me kissing Dolgar, the baker’s son, on market day?”

“No, indeed,” he raised his eyebrows, and you shook your head in amusement.

“She was furious, and of course I thought it was because I had been so brazen as to be found kissing in public…it turned out her objection was that I was dallying with a lad who couldn’t make a decent loaf to save his own skin.”

Thorin’s chest vibrated with his laugh, and you joined him despite your watery eyes, sighing at last as you lay your cheek against his. “Thank you, Thorin,” you whispered.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and spoke low. “As long as you have these memories to cherish, they will never truly leave you.”

You pulled back to look at him, nodding gratefully and reaching to smooth his bedraggled hair away from his face. “When did you become so wise?”

“I do not know that I may claim to be wise just yet,” he smiled. “But I am here, at your side, as often as you may need me.”

“I do not believe I could walk this path without you,” you confessed, and his arms around you were strong, reassuring, as you lifted your eyes to the dusky sky, grateful for this peaceful respite, no matter how brief.

“You are not alone, amrâlimê,” he promised, his voice tender. “As long as I have life, you are never alone.”


End file.
